WITCHES OF WESTMOOR free porn video

##### Part 1 - A Walk in the Woods #####

Twas early in the spring of 1809 that she took up residence in the woods near our small and quiet town of Westmoor. We were a small community, reasonably polite, but wary of strangers. It was always “Miss Lendberg” to her face, maintaining the polite social pleasantries in which we all cloak our true emotions. But by early summer, she carried many another name. A witch, some called her, or for a more dramatic flair, “the dark maiden”. Actual facts on the arts she was said to practice in those woods were of course slim, so we supplemented heavily with rumors, speculation, and hushed gossip. These were only whispered of course. A decade into the 19th century, we knew ourselves to be enlightened beyond the primitive fears and superstitions of Salem and other such witch-hunt nonsense. This we told ourselves, emboldened by the light of day, or in the company of others. Alone in the still of the night however, as the wind might rattle a loose shutter on the barn, or some unseen creature may scurry beneath the floorboards, the demons of paranoia hunted a bit closer to the heart, and even the bravest among us would not dare to tread the path through the woods in which she dwelled.

What were the crimes of this young woman? None could truly say for sure. Always someone rumored this or that. Why, William Baker had heard -- straight from the friend of his cousin on his mother’s side -- that “That Woman” had flown right at him, plunging from the night sky, screeching and yowling like some animal possessed. Never you mind the several pints of ale that had been downed, because that surely didn’t have thing-one to do with what was the god’s-honest-truth. So the rumors flew, and the tales grew, and as the dog-days of July did rapidly approach, we had ourselves our own little legend festering in whispered tones. Truth be told, there were but a hand-few who would ever truly come to understand the goings-on in those secretive woods. I would be one of those few. I came to see and learn things beyond my wildest imagination; things which defy all logic and things that changed me forever. Was she a witch? Here is the tale, for you to decide.

At the onset of that mysterious summer I found myself of marrying age. My mother, a housewife, and my father, a shopkeeper in the dry-goods trade, worked diligently to procure a suitable husband for their only daughter to marry. Formal introductions had been made to nearly all the eligible men in town, and yet I found myself without a hint of interest in the entire lot of them. Call them what you will, but in turn I found each to be rude, foolish, smelly, awkward, cruel, criminal, or insane, in often unsavory combinations.

My female friends at this age were of course all a-chatter about this boy or that one. Did he like her, and did she like him, and on and on in a boring drone. Forgive me, but I lacked the passion that they felt. No man turned my pretty head, made my heart pound with emotion, nor left me faint and breathless. I did not lack for suitors mind you. Many a young man came a courting at my parents’ encouragement, but alas, never could I find that spark, that magical bliss of which the old married couples speak with such fond memories. As my circle of friends began to dwindle as they all began to marry, I came to know the fear that such wonderful feelings were not in store for me.

But I busied myself with other pursuits. I worked in my father’s store, did my chores, rode horses on our farm, chatted with neighbors, and took long walks down our many country lanes. More and more though, I found myself straying towards the forbidden woods wherein the “Witch of Westmoor” dwelt. I had been warned, to be sure, by my parents and many others, that the woods of Westmoor were no place for a young lady to dally. “The witch -- she get ya, girl!” they would whisper. “Steer you clear, Missy, of them woods!” But to the young and foolhardy like myself, such stern warnings only serve as sweet jam upon the bread, and the temptation to see for myself what lurked in those deep dark woods came to beckon me in my waking hours and haunt me in my dreams.

So early in the morning on a Saturday in early July, I told my mother I was off for a walk to the old mill at the spring.

“Oh Honey, are you sure?” she protested. “It’s such a long walk. You’ll be gone all day.”

“Don’t worry, Mother,” I assured her. “I’ll be careful, and I’ve packed a lunch.”

She gave me that crooked smile that said she didn’t approve, but knew better than to try to reason with me. “Well off you go then, you little scamp. Be back by dark though.”

I grinned and assured her that I would, and set off the east along the dirt road at our gate. As I crested the hilltop I turned to wave to her as she looked after me from the porch. That seemed to satisfy her and she returned inside to her household chores. Determined, I then left the road and cut across country, short-cutting a path across the back-forty of Elmer’s wheat field.

From there it didn’t take me long to near the woodlands of Westmoor. A path along Elmer’s farm ran straight towards the woods. At one time that path had been heavily travelled, serving as the main route through the forest. But now it had fallen into disuse, with weeds and undergrowth working at a seemingly unnatural pace to reclaim their turf. People these days just went around the woods, not straight through, the extra time and distance be dammed, thank-you-very-much.

In the growing heat of the day I was glad for the light cotton sundress I had chosen for the trip. A drop of sweat formed on my chest and slid down between my firm cleavage as I worked my way through the grasping tangle of plant life reclaiming the path. I fanned myself with my hand, looking forward to the shady tree line just ahead. I crossed from bright daylight into the gloom of the heavy tree canopy and a sudden chill ran up my spine as the sunlight was swallowed up. My nipples popped to rigid attention as a case of goose bumps shivered up my arms. It was the most eerie of feelings and I paused, unsure if I should continue.

##### Part 2 - All Dressed Up #####

I summoned my courage. I was here and I wasn’t turning back. I looked around. The path, strangely enough, had opened back up once I crossed into the woods. It appeared well travelled, or perhaps more accurately, well tended. Listening to the sounds around me, I heard the familiar noises of the forest, the chatter of birds and squirrels, the rustle of the breeze through the leaves. Not quite so haunted as one might have been led to believe. Everything seemed disappointingly normal, with the exception perhaps of myself. The initial chill of the shade had worn off and the forest now held a perfectly pleasant temperature. By my nipples remained hard and swollen, embarrassingly obvious through the front of my thin cotton dress. As I walked, the soft cloth rubbed back and forth on my little bullet-shaped nubs, and even my rounded breasts seemed highly sensitive to even the softest caress. Unconsciously, I brought my hand up and lightly rolled my left nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I gasped at the sensation! It was electrifying and sent a delightful shudder through my entire body. I snatched my hand away. This was no way for a proper young lady to behave! My sole good fortune was that I found myself on an abandoned pathway in the woods, with no nosy busy-body to see and comment on my shameful state of arousal. “Pay attention to your walk,” I chided myself, confident that these unusual feelings would pass in short order.

I continued down the path, steeling myself against the ever-growing sensations in my body. The top of my dress rubbed and rubbed, back and forth, over my soft, round breasts and pointed nipples. I tugged and shifted the position of the garment, but to no avail. The dress seemed to constrict tighter, hugging me, squeezing and fondling me in a most intimate manner. Then -- I am most embarrassed to admit -- the sensation began to spread, finding its way down to the plump little mound between my legs. Surely it was my imagination, but my dress seemed to almost take on a life of its own as I walked deeper and deeper into those woods. The soft, cottony material clung between my thighs, slithering back and forth and building up an undeniable friction in my... my... well, in an area that a proper young lady simply doesn’t discuss in public. I tugged the material free, but almost immediately it would worm its way back between my legs, seeming to become ever more insistent. The back of the dress also appeared possessed, working its way between the cheeks of my firm, swaying bottom as I walked. Deeper and deeper it slipped in a most unnatural manner, as if seeking to torment my most embarrassingly private and sensitive region of wrinkled flesh. The bunched up cottony material rubbed against the tender fleshy dimple of my tightly puckered portal and I flushed with embarrassment. I tugged the material free, but within a few steps it would slither its way back into the soft, deep cleft of my bottom, digging its way relentlessly deeper. It was a most indelicate of situations, I can assure you.

Obviously I should have turned and fled, and yet I didn’t. Strange forces were at work here, but perhaps I had already lost my sense of reason. The urge to walk ever deeper into the woods was overpowering, calling me to follow some strange need that beckoned me to continue.

After a while on the winding trail, I saw a clearing ahead in the woods. My weaving pathway led directly to the fence yard of a charming little house. I paused, uncertain of what to do. The soft white cotton of my dress continued its antics, slithering its way all over my firm young body, clinging to every curve and crevice. The normally lady-like hem, properly cut well below the knee, crawled its way up my thighs and hung bunched at my waist. I looked down, inhaling sharply in surprise and shame that my female charms stood exposed for anyone to see. Desperately I struggled with the dress. It now possessed an amazing strength and will of its own, but I managed to wrestle the hem down to barely cover my naked hips. From behind, I felt the dress bunch up, poking its way between my cheeks, wriggling its way relentlessly towards the tight little pucker of my bottom. In front, it lecherously mirrored its rear action, gathering itself into a wad, forcing its way towards my groin, and probing its way against the ruffled lips of vaginal slit.

Fearfully I struggled with the skirt, horrified at this demonic turn of events. Gripping the wadded hem with both hands, I strained to return it to its proper position below my knees. My arms were shaking with the effort and I could hear stitches in the fabric begin to pop. But the dress resisted all my efforts to restore my modesty. Gritting my teeth, I pulled down as hard as I could, but succeeded only in slipping the top of the dress downward. I stifled a cry of dismay as my creamy rounded breasts toppled free, exposing the quivering orbs of flesh. Blushing, I snatched my hands to the top of the dress and tugged upward, attempting to cover myself, but the stubborn material refused to yield. The cottony fingers of the dress, freed from my attention, exploited the opportunity. I raised my face to the heavens and gave a startled squawk of protest as the finger-like element of my dress prodded urgently at the sensitive puckered opening of my bottom. “No!” I exclaimed to no one in particular, but the dress paid no heed. The other cottony finger also advanced formed, poking and thrusting ever more insistently at my groin, seeking to gain access to my virgin slit.

Mother had warned me, in a hushed and embarrassed tone, that “good girls” don’t touch themselves down there, and I had always heeded her warnings on such somber matters. This could not be allowed to continue! I fought with the probing, rubbing material, but it was in vain. The cottony fingers of the possessed garment found their way to their targets and my virgin slit received its first-ever penetration. Crying with fear, I gripped the front of my dress with both hands, yanking furiously in an attempt to drag it free of my puffy little sex mound. It had the strength of three men it seemed, and I could do nothing to halt its progress as it diddled my sensitive ruffled lips. Despite my revulsion, I felt my vaginal lips blossom open in response. The cottony material gathered itself and then wriggled its way up inside my pink girlish core.

“Ah!” I cried out, jerking upright in shock as the rearward finger of the dress nosed its way into the wrinkled dimple of my bottom and pushed, fighting the tightly puckered resistance of my rectal opening. I clenched myself against the invasion, but was powerless to stop it. I issued a moan of protest as I felt the taunt muscular opening of my bottom forced relentlessly open, the wriggling finger of cottony material easing its way into my sphincter.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. This was so wrong... so evil... The forbidden sensations of the twin penetrations shuddered through me. With a sob, my efforts to continue the fight began to falter. I weakly tugged at the dress as an involuntary twitch cause my hips to buck. Instinctively I spread my stance and squatted a bit, opening myself up in an invite for more of this delightful probing. My hands of their own accord came up, clutching my naked breasts, teasing the rigid nipples. “Ummmm,” I groaned, closing my eyes and abandoning myself to my fate.

A warm bubbling sensation of pleasure began to build in my belly -- something I had never felt before. On instinct I dropped one hand to my groin, clutching at my moist, swollen sexual mound. I extended a finger and rubbed along the ruffled lips of my slit, finding the bunched and twisted appendage of dress embedded therein. As if sensing my presence, the material unwound, opening up and welcoming my finger into its cottony grip. My mother’s warnings forgotten, I slipped my finger inside my slit, snuggly wrapped in the wet, slippery embrace of the material of my dress. Joining in the motion of the enchanted dress, I drove my finger in and out of slit, simulating the motions I had seen of our barnyard animals in their mating season.

Then, I am most shamed to admit, my other hand stole its way down to my backside. Heedless of who might be around to see, I squatted in a most unladylike manner and pushed my middle finger between the spread cheeks of my rump. Never had I seen our barnyard animals rutting in this second orifice, but the sensations of my probing dress just made the action seem so natural. Again, the animated appendage of my dress unraveled just enough to welcome my probing finger. With a sigh of passion I slowly eased my wriggling digit right up into the warm, clutching depths of my nether passage. It was ever so tight, but with a determined effort my cloth-wrapped middle finger was soon buried to the third knuckle in my anal portal. Biting my lower lip to restrain a groan of passion, I slowly began to slide both fingers back and forth, savoring the wonderful friction that arose. Twisting my finger in my bottom brought forth a whole new dimension of pleasure and a passionate moan escaped me.

So there I stood, in the middle of a pathway in the forest, my bare breasts bouncing and jiggling and legs spread in a most unrefined stance. One finger, wrapped in the material of my white cotton sundress diddled passionately into my virgin sex mound while my other hand slowly drove a twisting, probing finger into the steamy confines of my puckered bottom hole. The bubbling sensation in my belly grew in intensity and I trembled with delight. Faster and faster I worked fingers, digging deeper and deeper into my cracks and crevices. Suddenly, the burning ball of fire in my belly sunk to my loins and released in an explosion of lust and passion that I had never imagined possible!

I cried out a primal scream of lust and lapsed into insensible utterances of “Uh... uh... UH!” matching the timing of my frantic finger thrusts. Pulsing convulsions shuddered through my groin and back passage. Eyes closed, I urgently drove my fingers deep and hard as my hips bucked to meet the thrusts. My rounded breasts bounced wildly, their nipples aching with pleasure as a moist sheen of perspiration broke out over my entire body. My breathing coming rapid gulps, I trembled and groaned, calling out in passion to a god who surely would not approve of my behavior.

I inhaled in short desperate gasps, my body twitching with every breath. Finally my frantic pace began to ease and a warm glow of satisfaction descended upon me. I shuddered as the powerful contractions in my body tapered off to evermore sporadic convulsions, each accompanied by a tired thrust of my hips and fingers, and a passionate “oh!” from my slack lips.

Finally, it was over. I giggled, unable to stop. I don’t know why, but the emotional release from those powerful sensations just set me to laughing. My voice seemed to echo strangely around me in the forest, changing lilt and pitch until I began to doubt that the sounds were even my own.

##### Part 3 - The Witch of the Woods #####

“My goodness, what a happy girl you are!” exclaimed a voice. I gasped in shock and looked in the direction of the sound. There, standing just off the path, was Miss Lendberg, the dreaded ‘Dark Maiden’, the ‘Witch of the Woods’. I blushed fiercely, realizing the forbidden act she had just caught me in. As she watched, I shamefully withdrew my fingers from the grasping confines of my girlish slit and bottom. Adding to my embarrassment, the bunched cloth of my dress remained lodged deep with the humid depths of both of my holes. I had little choice but to tug the material free while under her stern gaze. I pulled the cottony finger out of my tight little bottom, trying to ignore the delightful friction it caused as it slid from the still quivering puckered opening. Flushed red as a beet, I repeated the same for the portion of my dress stuffed up my virgin slit, unable to fully stifle an involuntary twitch of my hips in the process.

Miss Lendberg looked on with a bemused expression of interest. My dress, seemingly possessed of such inhuman strength and lecherous will just minutes before now hung as a limp and lifeless garment, as if to deny that anything odd had ever occurred. Looking down, I saw a large wrinkled wet spot stained the groin area of my dress, revealing the slippery discharge it had absorbed while stuffed deep within my girlish slit. Lastly, I tugged the top of the dress upward, hastily slipping my jiggling, naked breasts back inside their cottony confines. I brushed my tussled hair back out of my face, purposely ignoring the wonderfully musky smell wafting from my finger.

Unable to meet her eyes, I looked at the ground as I tried to explain the odd events that had left me to be discovered in such an indelicate predicament. “It was my dress... It was as if... I just couldn’t stop it from...” It all suddenly made no sense what-so-ever, and trying to put it into words just made it sound all the more ridiculous. Was this woman to believe that my dress had allegedly come to life and molested me? All she knew was that she had stumbled upon a gasping, groaning girl, breasts exposed, and stuffing her pretty cotton dress into her naughty little sex holes with the morals of a common street tart. I began to doubt the truth even myself. It seemed completely preposterous. The “enchanted dress” hung lifeless now. Had I imagined it all? What had possessed me to act in such an immoral manner? Confused, I began to cry.

“Oh, there now, baby,” Miss Lendberg soothed in a calming voice. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear. It’s just us two girls here, and the forest has a strange effect. Come now, quit your crying. I understand.”

Her soft voice served to ease my fears. Still sniffling, I raised my eyes and beheld the dreaded Witch of Westmoor up close for the first time. The rumors run amok had done her quite a disservice. She was a young, pretty woman with a slim, envious figure. She wore a simple work dress, yet her feminine charms could not be concealed by the unadorned garment. She stood about half a hand taller than myself and had a very pretty face, framed in a lovely cascade of wavy hair as black as the darkest night.

“So... so you’re the... the witch?” I stammered, immediately flushing with embarrassment at my rudeness, wishing for all-the-world I could snatch the words back before she heard them and took offense.

“Perhaps to some,” she smiled. “But you may call me Kara, if you prefer.”

“Yes, yes Miss Lendberg... I mean Kara. It’s a very nice name,” I gushed in relief.

“And who might you be then?” she inquired, her dark, soft eyes taking me in with keen interest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I offered. “I’m Kristy, Kristy Miller... from town.”

“How pretty,” Kara remarked. I blushed under her appraising gaze, not sure if she was in reference to my name, or my general appearance. “And what pray-tell brings Kristy Kristy Miller from Town out into my forest today? Aren’t you a bit young to be out on your own in the dreaded witch’s woods?”

I saw from the twinkle of her eye that she might be teasing me a bit. “No Ma’am, err... Kara,” I countered, drawing myself up to my full five-foot-four height. “I’m every bit of eighteen now, and I can handle myself.”

“Yes, well I’ve certainly seen evidence of that,” Kara laughed. I bit my lower lip as it quivered and looked down, ashamed. Kara came over and put an arm around me. “Oh come now, I’m just kidding you Kristy. Friends can tease each other, can’t they?”

“Certainly!” I replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, looking up to gaze into her eyes. I was thrilled that she didn’t judge the worst of me for what she seen earlier.

“But you’ve made a bit of a mess of your pretty white dress, haven’t you?” Kara whispered to me in a tone that hinted that this was our little conspiracy. I looked down, having forgotten about the tell-tale wet stain clearly visible on the front of my dress. I could only hope it would dry of its own accord and not leave a permanent legacy of my naughty activities.

##### Part 4 - The Eager Student #####

“May I? Kara inquired, gesturing at the embarrassing stain on my dress. “Let me see what I can do about that.” I nodded and she eased her long, slender fingers down to the wet smear on my dress. She brushed at the material a few times, as if sweeping away a spot of lint.

“I don’t think that...” I started, dubious of her cleaning efforts.

“There!” she proclaimed, pulling the material out for my visual inspection. “Good as new and fresh as a daisy!”

I stared in surprise. The stain was gone, the dress was dry, and no hint of the warm, sticky mess remained to be seen. “How? I mean... where?” I stammered.

“Oh, just a handy little parlor trick,” Kara assured me. The she held out her hand, uncurling the graceful fingers. The tips of her digits were soaked with a glistening sheen, which I knew to be the dress-staining moisture spilled from my girlish slit. Somehow she had pulled every last drop and driblet of the moisture cleanly from my dress, and now held the slippery mess in a puddle in her hand. As I watched, a single drop -- slow as molasses -- slipped from her fingertips and hung suspended on a glistening, sticky string.

My eyes grew huge as she brought her hand to her mouth, extending her tongue to capture the errant drop. She licked her hand, eyes closing as she savored the forbidden taste with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. I gazed on in dumbstruck amazement.

“Oh Kristy, you’re such a sweet little thing,” she groaned. “Still a virgin I note.”

“What? Yes... I mean, of course. But how...?”

“Your taste can tell me many things, my dear.” She offered her hand to me. “Taste yourself,” she offered.

I blushed and cast my eyes away from her. “I... I could not.” I stammered.

“But you can,” Kara corrected. “You are in my woods. Who is here to judge you? The trees perhaps, the birds, or the wind through the leaves? No one.” She brought her hand closer to my face and the musky feminine smell on her fingers sifted into my senses. Despite my reservations, I inhaled deeply, drawing my girlish scent into my lungs, savoring the tantalizing odor. But still I halted, fearful of the unknown. Kara brought her slippery index finger to my mouth, pressing it against my pouting lips. Gently she rubbed the sensitive oral flesh. I could sense just a hint of the taste waiting for me on my lips -- the taste of my own fluids from my virgin slit.

“Lick it,” she whispered in my ear as she rubbed her finger softly over my pursed pink lips. The power of her suggestive voice seemed to invade my entire mind and body. Perhaps I was powerless to resist her, or perhaps I simply didn’t want to resist at all. But regardless, I slowly parted my lips, allowing her to ease the sticky finger into my mouth.

The taste of the slippery vaginal fluid came alive in my mouth. Of its own accord, my tongue danced over the surface of her fingertip as I began to salivate. I groaned and sucked on the finger as she slipped it deeper into my eager oral embrace, ravenous for the intoxicating taste. But all too soon, the savory flavor coating her finger began to fade as I noisily sucked off any last remnants.

“Is it good, baby?” Kara whispered. She had moved in so close that I felt her heated breath in my ear. I shivered in response, feeling the first hints of a resurging quivering begin to bubble in my belly.

“Ummm. Oh yes, ever so good,” I sighed, my heart throbbing as I dared to utter the confession.

“More?” she inquired. I felt her lips nuzzle my ear and my knees nearly buckled in response.

“Yes... please,” I responded breathlessly. Kara extended her middle finger and slid it between my waiting lips. I moaned and reached to grab her wrist, pulling her finger into my mouth to the last knuckle and sucking on her probing digit for the savory sauce.

“Kristy, you’re insatiable!” she murmured, her lips all but nuzzling my neck. “Have you never tasted the charms of a girl before? Still sucking, I shook my head to indicate that I had not. She giggled at this and then I felt her wet tongue probe the depths of my ear. She slipped another finger into my mouth for me to suckle and then gently closed her other hand around one of my rounded breasts, cupping me through my dress. Her thumb and forefinger caught the rigid nipple in their grasp and she gave a gentle, rolling squeeze. I gasped with passion and leaned forward, pressing my heaving chest into her palm. With a practiced motion she slipped her hand down the top of my dress and freed the fleshy mound of my breast from the confines of my garment. I should have been alarmed, but my passion washed away any concern. There was a sense of freedom here in these woods that I had never felt before, and I abandoned myself to Kara completely. My thighs began to tremble and the wonderful sensation bubbling in my tummy began to simmer all the more urgently.

With a gentle parting squeeze, I felt Kara’s hand leave my naked breast and trace a line downward over my taunt tummy, heading towards my groin. Her hand groped at the plump, tender mound and I eagerly ground my hips, rubbing myself against her fingers through the barrier of my thin dress. I felt her fingers grasping at the material, pulling the hem upward. Breathing heavily, I dropped my hands to aid her efforts, pulling the garment upward and exposing my creamy smooth inner thighs to her touch.

Her skillful fingers quickly found my tight little slit and she teased the ruffled flesh of my vaginal lips. With a lustful sigh I pressed myself against her hand, resting my head on her shoulder as I felt her slip the tip of first one finger and then a second into me. Wetness oozed from my secret pink folds of flesh and her skillful fingers danced in the flow. A small shock convulsed through my groin and I knew that wonderful strange sensation I had felt before would soon again be upon me. Quiet cooing noises of delight escaped my lips as I began to pant with exertion.

Then -- far too soon -- Kara withdrew her talented fingers from my clutching slit. I mewled in protest, needing her back inside of me. I looked up, pleading with my eyes. She smiled and displayed her hand, spreading the fingers. Backlit by a ray of sunshine through the heavy tree cover, a shimmering web of my vaginal juices spanned between her fingers in a sparkling array. I licked my lips, anticipating the taste -- warm and fresh -- straight from my loins. To my disappointment however, Kara brought her hand to her own mouth and proceeded to wash my spendings off her fingers with a diligent effort of her long pink tongue. I looked on with envy, longingly licking my lips.

Kara turned to me, her lips awash and glistening with the wetness of my juices. She slowly brought her face to mine and tilted her head off to one side. I could feel my heart pounding furiously in my chest as she pressed her body against my heaving breasts. I knew she meant to kiss me and I leaned forward to meet her lips with my own. I could taste myself on her soft, nuzzling lips as my slippery wetness spread in our oral embrace. Her lips parted and I felt the tip of her tongue extend, teasing, probing, seeking its way into my mouth. A shiver of arousal raced up my spine as I opened my mouth to let her wriggling oral appendage slip inside, exploring deeply. Then her tongue retreated as she pressed her lips passionately to mine in a hungry open-mouthed kiss. Eyes closed, I eagerly slipped my tongue into her waiting mouth, groaning with pleasure as she sucked on my invading oral organ. Her mouth was alive with the taste of my girlish juices. Our saliva mingled with my sexual lubrication and a wet slurping sound arose as the passion of our kisses built to a frenzy.

All too quickly for me, Kara broke off our oral embrace. She took a step back and I gazed at her with wide, lust-filled eyes. I could see she was flushed and panting, as was I. “I want to eat you,” she breathed. “I want to suck your hot little cunt, and I want you to cum in my mouth.”

I looked at her, eager but confused. “I... I don’t understand the words you use,” I replied anxiously. I wanted to do whatever it took to please her, but never had I heard such words before.

“How wonderfully naive,” Kara chimed. “You are yet unspoiled, untainted by confused worldly notions and misconceptions. I could teach you everything. You are so eager to learn, so passionate and ripe, as yet unchained by your peoples’ outdated beliefs.”

“Yes...” I replied, not fully understanding.

“But you must be completely willing,” she countered.

“I will be so,” I promised, feeling my pulse quicken.

“You must trust me fully. Any doubt in your heart and you will fail.”

“I will not doubt,” I swore to her.

She paused, looking deep into my eyes, searching, evaluating. “Then you must learn to understand my words, and to use them. A few perhaps you have heard before. You have been told that these words are wrong, and evil. But they are just words, and you must open your mind and free yourself of your shackles.”

I nodded, awaiting further instructions. She stepped towards me. Her hand reached up and warmly cupped my exposed breast. Then her hand slipped again into the top of my dress and retrieved its twin, exposing both to her view.

“How beautiful you are,” she breathed. “Such firm and supple breasts, so round and full.”

I blushed. “Thank you,” I mumbled, looking away, unable to meet her eyes.

I felt her fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze back up to meet hers. “Do not be self-conscious,” she admonished in a quiet tone. “Tell me you are not ashamed of your wonderfully amazing tits.”

I gathered my courage, looking deep into her eyes. My heart racing, I raised my hand and slowly traced a finger across the upper swell of my breast, then down into my cleavage. “Tell me again that you like my... my... tits,” I whispered with a coy smile, trying out the newfound word.

Kara laughed in response, her eyes sparkling with approval. “Yes! Good girl! I do! I love your beautiful, bouncy titties!” I smiled, mentally filing that word away for future reference.

And this?” she inquired, slipping her hand down to cup my mounded loins. “What do you call this?”

I let out a quiet moan in response to her intimate touch. “It is... ah... my... Venus,” I stammered in embarrassment.

“How quaint,” Kara remarked. “It is a wonder that anyone in your town has ever managed to reproduce.” She sensuously rubbed my plump little mound of lust and I sighed with forbidden pleasure. “This, my dear, is a creature of many names. It may bring you and I much pleasure in the times to come. Let me teach you some of its incantations. This is your delicious little cunt.”

“My... cunt?” I repeated in a questioning tone.

“Yes, my dear, your cunt. Your exquisite little cunt. Your pink, juicy cunt. As a beautiful girl, you have a tight, tasty, dripping cunt. Your cunt is the soul of everything you are and will become. Hence, you are a CUNT. Do you understand? Say it for me.”

“I’m a... a cunt,” I dared to whisper. It sounded so nasty, so vulgar, so... right.

“Again,” Kara urged. “Do not be ashamed. Be proud. You are a beautiful little cunt.”

“I’m a Cunt!” I asserted proudly, standing a bit straighter as I claimed my vaginal badge of honor that no one could ever deny. “I’m a beautiful Cunt!”

“Excellent!” Kara responded. She let the tip of her finger travel up and down the length of my glistening slit... err... cunt, rewarding me. “It is also called your twat.”

I nodded, liking the sound of it. “I’m a Twat, a pretty little Twat!” I proclaimed, earning her nod of approval.

“By another name, it is your pussy,” she explained.

I giggled in response, noting the similarity due to my very thin patch of pubic hairs. I nodded and Kara pressed on with the listing of other names -- fuck slot, beaver (to which I laughed again), flesh pot, honey hole, and clam. It is your gash, your snatch, and your cooze... She trailed off as I tried to take in the bewildering array of terms. She gently pinched the ruffled edges of my cunt, causing me to squirm with delight. “These are your cunt lips, twat lips, or meat flaps.”

I repeated each of the terms, trying to commit the growing list to memory. Then Kara slowly inserted her finger into the steamy depths of my twat. I squirmed and grunted as she relentlessly plowed her digit into my slippery folds. “Your cunt hole,” she instructed, worming ever deeper, “or fuck tunnel... Oh, you’re so tight! Can you make it tighter, Kristy?”

I concentrated, experimenting with the muscles in my pussy. I felt my cunt tighten down around her finger and she cooed with obvious delight. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed, drawing her finger in and out to reward me. “Now release and tighten. Can you do that quickly, over and over? Not everyone can. It’s called ‘milking’. Can you milk my finger with your pretty little twat?”

Again I concentrated. At first I struggled, but after a moment I found a natural, rapid rhythm. Kara groaned, obviously impressed. “Do you feel it?” I gushed. “Can you feel me milk your finger with my pussy? Push it deeper, Kara! Push it in deeper and you’ll feel it!” I exclaimed, excited to discover that I was a cunt with such a special hidden talent.

Kara dug deeper, causing me to squeal as her finger prodded up against a barrier in my snatch. Apparently she had found the limits of my pussy, at about one finger depth. I was disappointed, but Kara’s excitement washed away that concern. “Yes! I can feel it, Baby! Shit, what a naughty little cunt you have!” I grinned, basking in her compliment.

Kara heaved a deep breath of heated passion. “Take off your dress!” she urged. “I want to see you fully naked!”

Self-consciously I looked around to assure myself that there were no unwelcome prying eyes to see me. It was a ridiculous action, given that my tits were already hanging out and Kara had a finger buried full depth in my tight little squirming snatch. Old habits die hard. However, the dense forest seemed to have closed in around us and I felt safe and secure. Starting at the top, I unbuttoned the front of my dress and let it slip to the ground around my feet. I then raised my eyes shyly to meet Kara’s, hoping she would be pleased.

She licked her lips with a predatory gaze. “So beautiful,” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. I ran my hands up my naked hips, over my taunt tummy, and then cupped my firm, rounded tits, offering them up to her. She bent down, placing a sensual kiss on the warm flesh of my breast. She nuzzled her soft lips over my rigid nipple, sucking on the little nub of flesh as I squirmed with pleasure. I gasped as she gently bit the nipple with her teeth, pulling at my tit as she gazed up at me with her deep, dark eyes. Her tongue fluttered rapidly across the sensitive tip captured in her tender bite and I moaned as the strange trembling in the depth of my cunt began to bubble once again.

“You see how the mouth and tongue can be used to bring pleasure?” Kara quizzed. I nodded vigorously with clenched teeth, hoping she would never stop. “I will teach you this, and many other things, and you will learn to please me in many ways.”

“Yes...” I groaned, eager to learn and explore all she had to offer.

“Now get on the ground,” Kara instructed. I spread my dress out as a blanket and sat myself down. “No, the other way,” Kara corrected, “on your hands and knees. Yes, like that, and spread your legs for me a little more.” I complied, settling into the position as instructed. “Now down in front. Just rest your head on your arms like you are taking a nap. Get comfortable.” I did as requested, with my head down and my naked bottom up in the air. I could feel my naked pussy stuck out below the bottom of my rump cheeks, clearly exposed to Kara’s view. I should have been ashamed -- mortified. But I realized, after her earlier instructions, that this was a natural way for a cunt to act. I trembled with anticipation.

Kara reached between my legs and once again caressed my little pussy. I sighed with delight and pressed myself eagerly backwards towards her touch. Kara shook her head and gave me a mock “tsk, tsk” or disapproval. “You’re certainly an eager little beaver, aren’t you?” she teased. “I see that I have a lot to teach you before your tasty little twat leads you into trouble. So continuing... your sweet little cunt has other important elements,” she instructed. “But we will get to those in time. For now, the position you are in, do you recognize it?”

I thought for a moment, and then it hit me. “Our barnyard animals assume such a stance... during rutting. The females of course -- the males do the mounting from behind.”

“Good, Kristy, very good,” Kara praised. “And does this feel natural to you?”

I paused to consider, but the answer was clear. “Yes, very natural... because I’m a cunt.” I responded.

Kara nodded, smiling. “Even with another woman?” she inquired.

I hadn’t thought about it, but now that she mentioned it, it was quite natural with her. To assume such a position with a man now seemed... somehow wrong... dirty and obscene. There were so many confusing things I could not fathom. “It feels so right with you, Kara. But I do not understand. Never have I seen two females undertake the rutting. Surely such a thing could not be done.”

“It can, and we will, Kristy. All in good time,” she assured me. “But first, another new word for you -- fucking.”

“Fucking,” I repeated, like the sound. “This is like rutting then?”

“It is a difficult word, often abused and with many subtle meanings,” she explained. “But essentially, yes.”

“Fucking,” I repeated slowly, savoring the primitive sound. It seemed so... instinctive, so deliciously vulgar.

“You understand that during the rutting, or fucking, the male will penetrate the female?” Kara inquired.

“Yes... Yes, of course,” I agreed. “I have seen this on our farm. The male however is different. He has no cunt. Instead he has... something like a finger, only larger.”

“Yes, the male has a cock, a prick, or penis, just to name a few,” Kara assisted.

“Which he then puts into the female -- into her... into her cunt!” I extrapolated. “Then there is much humping and thrusting, and sometimes yowling and scratching. It is like they are fighting, but they are not.”

“Exactly, yes,” Kara nodded. “The male does this to implant his seed into the womb of the female. This is of course for procreation -- to produce babies.”

I nodded, mostly understanding. “Where is this... womb?” I inquired.

“Deep within you,” Kara explained. It is the wellspring of your cunt hole, the farthest nether regions of your tender little twat.”

“And from this, the babies are born!” I completed with excitement, beaming as I pulled some of the puzzle pieces together. “The end result of fucking!”

“Often, yes,” Kara agreed. “However, humans are a bit different. Animals are driven to undertake fucking to produce offspring. Humans often fuck for the sheer pleasure of it. Yet you are taught that it should only be done to produce a child. It is a lie. Do you understand this?”

I paused and considered. I felt Kara slip a finger into my pussy and the answer became immediately clear. “Yes... oh, that feels so good... Yes, it seems that things are not entirely as we are taught.”

“So you do not want a baby?” Kara inquired.

I was shocked at the suggestion. “Of course not!” I sputtered.

“And yet your shameless little cunt yearns deeply for a fucking?”

“Oh, yes!” I responded, blushing at my obvious eagerness. I swiveled my hips as her finger slowly churned in the moist embrace of my twat. “A fucking, deep into the core of my womb!”

Kara giggled at my enthusiasm. “And of course, a female could never implant a baby into another female. Does it not seem a perfect solution then, for a girl to fuck another girl when only pleasure is desired?”

It was all so logical. “Of course!” I agreed with excitement as my understanding became clear. “Two girls could fuck each other for pleasure, and no unwanted child would result.”

Kara nodded. “Very good,” she praised as her finger trailed backwards out of my moist, tender fuck slit until it slipped out and came to rest on the sensitive region of flesh between my cunt and my puckered little bottom hole. I flinched self-consciously. “You have another orifice which you have already discovered can bring you pleasure?” She prompted.

“Umm... I have... I mean, there is...” I stammered, unable to find the words.

“Do not be ashamed,” Kara chided. “Did I not see you earlier, and had you not already found this second portal of delight? It is no source of shame. Many girls are too shy to find pleasure in the stimulation of their bottom. I find the penetration of this hole very exciting. I suspect that you do also. We are very lucky in this.”

“I did,” I admitted, blushing at the memory of the guilty pleasure. Taking a deep breath for courage, I dared to press further. “I think a finger -- very deep into my bottom might be most... enjoyable,” I hinted in a hopeful tone.

Kara laughed. “So eager to continue. Very good! This, Kristy, is your hot little ass,” she instructed, gripping the firm, rounded cheeks of my rump and squeezing them in a most enticing manner. “You have a wonderful heart-shaped ass, and I know many a man would desire to fondle it. However, as I think you are learning today, you prefer the touch of a woman instead. Am I correct?” I nodded in agreement. With one hand she tugged on my soft, creamy rump cheek, spreading it from its twin, exposing the wrinkled brown pucker of flesh normally hidden in the deep, warm cleft. My heart raced as Kara’s finger trailed slowly upward, making a few teasing circular motions around the dimpled recess of my bottom and then gently easing upward to trace up and down the cleft of my rump. Of its own accord, I felt my secret little orifice pucker rapidly back and forth with excitement. Her finger trailed back downward, once again circling around my dimpled little opening. Closer and closer she spiraled as my pulse pounded with anticipation.

I jerked as she made first contact, gasping an “Ah!” in response. A wonderful trembling in my belly continued to simmer and I found that instead of shying away from her intimate touch, I only spread my legs wider, hoping to provide her better access. Her finger came back to rest on my tightly clenched little orifice, pressing ever so gently as the tight, muscular ring shuddered in response.

“So this nether hole, it can also be used for fucking?” I hinted again.

“Oh, yes, my Dear,” Kara assured. “It also has many a name. It is your tight little asshole.”

“That makes sense,” I reasoned, slowly rolling my hips against her finger.

“It is the gateway to your anus,” she explained. “I may also call it your bunghole, your butthole, or your shit socket. It’s your rectal pucker, anus and your brownie hole.” I nodded, repeating the words to commit them to memory while desperately hoping that she would soon see fit to squeeze a finger deep within.

“So a girl could then -- in theory -- fuck another girl in her asshole?” I encouraged. “Fucking her deep and hard in her pretty little anus with a finger?”

“Oh, that and many other things,” Kara assured me, increasing the pressure on the tip of her finger as I felt my little rectal pucker begin to relent and nip teasingly at the tip of her digit.

I laughed. “Of course things like a finger,” I asserted nervously. “My little asshole would be much too small and tight for anything larger than that.”

“Do not be so sure, my little butt slut,” Kara countered. “It is an amazing little hole, and I suspect from your squirming at my touch that you will find that the larger and deeper the penetration, the more pleasure you will gain. But fear not, little one. We will start you off small.” I groaned with shameless delight as Kara finally fulfilled my perverse desire by slipping her finger into the tight, clutching confines of my trembling rectum.

I squirmed with passion under her talented touch, feeling the tip of her finger exploring inside the humid rim of my asshole. Then she bent, bringing her pretty face close to my squirming backside. I felt her heated breath exhaled across my naked butt cheeks. I heard her licking and sucking -- wetting a second finger. A warm droplet of spit fell into the crack of my ass, trailing slowly downward.

“More?” she inquired.

I nodded nervously, but Kara demanded my committment. “You must say it, Kristy. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I gulped. It was one thing to passively have these perversions done upon me. But to ask for them -- to beg -- was yet another level of degradation. Kara withdrew her probing finger from my butthole. I turned to look back at her, pleading with my eyes. She sucked sensuously on her fingers, first her long slender middle finger and then her pointed index finger, fresh and warm from the hot, clutching confines of my tight little bunghole.

“Pl... Please, Kara...” I managed to squeak, my voice cracking piteously.

Fingers in her mouth, she looked at me with a cocked eyebrow, waiting.

“Please...” I begged again, but to no avail. She closed her eyes, inserting both fingers into her mouth and sucking noisily. Several trails of warm, lubricating spittle trailed down her hand. I gathered my courage.

“Please, Kara... please put your fingers in... in my bottom!” I blurted out, my face blushing red with disgrace.

Kara nodded, seeming pleased. “Good girl,” she praised. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes... oh, please Kara... in my rump,” I urged in a whisper.

“You mean in your ass? You want me to finger-fuck you up the asshole?”

I knew she meant to tease me until I broke. I searched my memory for the words that she had taught me. “Please, Kara,” I pleaded, reaching back and spreading my rounded butt cheeks open with both hands in open invitation. “Fuck me. Fuck me deep and hard in my... in my anus. Fuck your fingers up my tight little rectum!” My face blazed red with shame and tears welled up in my eyes, clouding my vision.

Satisfied at last, Kara dropped her hand, wet and warm with her saliva, onto my upturned rump. I wriggled my hips, waiting and breathless as she traced a lazy line down the crack of my ass. I groaned with delight as the tip of her finger once again made contact with my anus. Then I squealed with passion as she pressured the tip of her digit inside me. With a few slow, steady strokes she was hilted to the third knuckle. I arched my back, pushing backwards in encouragement.

She bent over behind me, bringing her lips to my rear. Again I felt her breath, hot and ragged with excitement, washing over my trembling ass. Partially withdrawing her finger, she nuzzled the sliding digit with her lips, licking and sucking her retreating finger, savoring the forbidden taste of my dark and humid bunghole. She slowly pressed back in, causing me to gasp a sharp intake of air as a wave of pleasure throbbed through me. Soon she had me wet and slippery, allowing her finger to slip back and forth with a growing ease. A quiet “slurp” could be heard with every anal fuck-thrust of her talented hand.

Kara paused, but only briefly. I mewled in protest, grinding my hips in desperation. Leaving her wriggling index finger inserted in my anus, she nursed her middle finger in her mouth, coating it with a liberal amount of spit. Then, with only a minor amount of additional effort, she added the second finger to the effort of my anal penetration.

I jerked my head up in shock. “Does it hurt, Baby?” she inquired in a cautious tone.

I shook my head. “It’s... It’s amazing!” I managed to gasp, reveling in the wonderful stretching sensation.

“And are you my little ass-fucking whore?” she teased. I gritted my teeth, rolling my hips to match the timing of her trusts, nodding my head in agreement.

“Is it possible then, that your hot little asshole is as talented as your pussy?” she asked. The cheeks of my ass flattened against her hand as she tried to force her fingers in to further depths. Slowly she twisted her wrist back and forth, boring into my bowels like a heavenly drill.

“Ohhhhh.... Yesssss...” I moaned as my tender backside was deliciously stuffed.

“Try to tighten,” Kara commanded. “Just like you did for with your pretty little pink cunt.” I complied, concentrating on clenching down the muscles in my rectum to embrace her embedded fingers in the loving grasp of my ass. Then, knowing what was expected next, I released and gripped down again, building up a rhythm into a rapid series of anal contractions. My naked hips bucked back and forth with the effort and I felt my stretched little anus pucker open and closed around the base of Kara’s fingers. My anal tract fluttered in response and a gripping, milking motion snugged down around her embedded digits, grasping at her fingers and energetically attempting to draw them deeper into my heated bung.

“Fuck!” Kara exclaimed. “I can feel your little asshole sucking at my fingers! It’s so tight I can barely move! You’re absolutely wonderful, Kristy! Such a talented little butt-fuck slut!” I grinned, happy that I could please her so.

With an effort, Kara withdrew her clutching fingers from my anus, just as a trembling surge of passion was beginning to build in the depths of my ass. “No!” I cried in protest, wriggling my naked rump in the air. “Please, Kara, I need it! Put it back in!”

“Patience, Kristy girl,” she soothed, planting a kiss on my trembling, rounded backside, and then another. Her fingers slipped into the crack of my ass, gently prying my cheeks apart. Then she favored me with another kiss -- and a lick of her tongue -- right at the base of my spine. She gave a second lick, starting an inch or so down into the crack of my ass and swiping slowly upward.

“Do you remember when I told you earlier that the mouth and tongue can be used to bring pleasure as well as fingers?” Kara inquired.

“Oh? Oh... yes!” I stammered, feeling a shiver of excitement race up my spine.

“And would you like me to pleasure you in such a manner?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Ummmm.... Oh, god, yes. Please Kara, yes!” I arched my back and shivered with expectation. I wasn’t sure if I truly understood her intentions, but my imagination was running wild.

“Then you must ask it of me. Beg me Kristy. Tell me what you want.”

I paused, uncertain. What if I had misunderstood? What if I asked her to perform such a perversion, only to have her recoil in shock and revulsion? I didn’t know if I could bring myself to put my darkest desires into words.

Kara urged me along. “You do want it, don’t you Kristy? You want to feel my kiss, my lips, my long, wet tongue?”

“Yes!” I blurted out without hesitation, unable to restrain myself.

“Where?” she cooed softly. “Tell me where.”

A tremble of anticipation shivered through my naked thighs. “On my... my bottom, please Kara, I need it!”

She bent, placing a long, sensual kiss on the firm cheek of my rump, nipping gently at the naked flesh with her teeth and then soothing the playful bite with a loving stroke of her wet tongue. “Here?” she teased.

Desperately abandoning any remaining reservations and trappings of dignity, I pleaded again, “No, Kara, please... kiss me, lick me... I need the touch of your lips on my... on my... oh god! On my asshole!”

“There you go, Baby,” Kara soothed, pressing her pretty face into the crack of my ass. Her full soft lips nuzzled the dimple around my asshole and then she pressed her mouth fully onto my quivering anus in an obscene oral-anal kiss. I gasped with passion. She lovingly caressed my tight, puckered rectal opening with her lips. I rolled my hips and issued quiet “ooohs” of delight.

“Tell me where you want my tongue, Kristy,” she urged in a breathless voice.

##### Part 5 - Thoughts of Mommy Dearest #####

Was I dreaming? Was this beautiful woman really offering to slip her wet pink tongue into the heated depths of my quivering little bunghole? Nothing was now beyond the realm of possibility. No perversion seemed off limits. “Up my ass, Kara, please! I need your wonderful tongue up my hot little asshole!”

“Fucking you?” she teased. “In and out? Tongue-fucking you up your pretty little shithole?”

“Oh... FUCK! Yes!” I cried out. “Please, I’ll do anything! Just fuck me!”

“Have you ever let another girl tongue-fuck you in the anus, Kristy?” she teased. “Licking you, eating out your tight little pooper? One of your pretty girlfriends perhaps?”

“No... Never!” I countered, aching for her touch. She knew full-well I had not - could not. Once again I blushed fiercely red as she made me realize and accept the depths to which I had sunk. Who could have done such an unspeakable thing?

“Perhaps your mother then?” she asserted. “By the light of the fire, on a cold winter night? Your father, working late at the store, and you -- the shameless little slut -- bent over the kitchen table, wanting Mommy’s tongue up your ass?”

“Oh god... No!” I denied in a panic, even as the imagined imaged flashed unbidden through my mind.

“Yes!” Kara continued, her voice so strong and convincing that I almost began to believe. “Fuck me, Mommy! you beg. Fuck me up the asshole with your tongue!”

I shook my head ‘no’, fighting off the lurid suggestion. My head spun in a dizzying sensation.

“Eat me, Mommy, eat out my little asshole!” Kara continued, her voice commanding and almost irresistible. I could see the image in my mind, clear as if it had actually come to pass. “And then she does, Kristy. Your fuck-slut mother spreads your firm little butt cheeks. She pulls them wide apart. Her daughter’s tight, slick little asshole, puckered and waiting, longing for her kiss...”

“Yes...” I sighed, my resistance faltering to the illusions Kara appeared to be weaving in my mind.

“You yearn desperately for her oral caress. Your Mother’s lips on your asshole, her long wet tongue slipping into your tight little bunghole. Do you see it Kristy? Yes? Tell me, do you try to resist? Do you tell her this is wrong?”

“N... No...” I admit with a gasping sob. I could see myself, spread and eager, waiting for my Mother’s incestuous tongue, deep and wet in the depths of my clutching rectum. The event was but a figment of my imagination, and yet now it seemed so very, very real. Kara’s voice wove the story into reality, casting it as a vivid memory in my mind.

“... and then she is upon you,” Kara described. I nodded in agreement, seeing it all, lit by the flickering firelight and lanterns of our homestead.

“She kisses me,” I chime in. “She kisses me... my mother’s soft lips on my asshole, wet and warm.”

“Her mouth is open,” Kara added. “Her soft pink tongue flickers out, teasing your anus. Tell me about it Kristy. What does your hot little asshole do as your mother’s tongue begins to probe?”

“It throbs... and opens,” I sob in admission. “It trembles, puckering back and forth and then it opens to her touch. Oh god! She spreads my cheeks wider. I feel her breathing, urgent with desire. My little asshole -- like a flower -- it blossoms open. It gapes before her, and she kisses it!”

“Hard, she kisses you hard?” Kara pressed. “Her lips caress your open little rectum, nuzzling, then sealing her mouth perfectly to your ass. ‘My little butt-slut,’ she calls you, and you squirm in her grasp without denial. And then her tongue is inside you. Wriggling, digging its way into your shitter.”

“Yes!” I gasp, nearly able to feel the sensation of the imagined memory.

“Licking you! Fucking you! Your mother’s tongue, deep in your hot, tight little shit socket!”

I was entranced. Hypnotized. A bubbling sensation grew in my belly as -- in my mind -- my mother reamed out my virgin asshole with her tongue. We had to hurry! Daddy could be home at any moment, which added to the forbidden thrill. Soon the explosive rush of emotion would wash over me, a wonderful convulsion, deep in my sweet little cunt and asshole. My firm body, trembling, quivering around my mother’s deeply probing tongue. Deeper! Harder! Faster! Fucking her daughter right up the shitter! I was so close. I felt...”

Kara broke into my delusion with a kind-hearted giggle. “You’re such a little whore, Kristy! Only a nasty fucking whore would beg her own mother for a tongue-fuck up the asshole!”

I shook my head, the images in my mind evaporating like so much morning mist. But the urgent need in my body remained. I shuddered in desperation. “Yes!” I agreed, going out of my mind with desperation. “Please, Kara, I’m such a nasty little whore! I’m begging you... please... fuck me up the ass! My tight little butthole needs your tongue!”

Satisfied at last, Kara smiled and then plunged her tongue deep into the grasping clutches of my quivering anus. In a smooth, single stroke she drove her oral digit into the heated depths of my quivering rectum, probing and licking as my rippling shit socket gripped at her tongue in our lewd oral-anal embrace. She explored the hot, humid tunnel of my ass and I cooed and moaned with delight. Never had I experienced such a sensation! I began to pant like a dog on a hot summer day as I pushed my thrust-up rump backwards against her face, urging her ever deeper into my clutching rectal depths.

Kara broke our embrace, but only briefly. Quickly working her arms between my legs, she lifted my hips, spreading my legs into a wide-open stance. The cheeks of my ass gaped open before her as she pressed her pretty face deep into my crack. Then her lips once again found my tender rectal portal. She kissed me there, pressing her soft sensual lips against my frantically puckering anus. Her long wet tongue slithered once again inside me, tasting my heated bowels. She fluttered her tongue and then ran the pink appendage several times around inside rim of my girlish rectal pucker. I issued a squeal of delight as I felt a familiar twitching in my loins. Of their own accord, my hips bucked up and down, timed perfectly to Kara’s thrusting tongue which she now popped rapidly in and out of my gaping rectal orifice.

##### Part 6 - Good Vibrations #####

To my dismay, Kara withdrew her loving tongue from my asshole after only scant moments of playful stimulation. “Pleasssse...” I moaned shamelessly, but she hushed me into silence.

“You want to cum, Baby? You need to cum?” she whispered. Sensing my confusion at the new word, she explained with a smile. “It’s an orgasm -- that wonderful bubbling, twitching and convulsing you feel building in your body. You feel it building, don’t you? In belly, in your sweet little cunt, and even in that tight little ass perhaps?”

“Yes... Oh god... yesss!” I nodded desperately. “It trembles in my belly at first, but then seems to want to explode down into my pussy. And my ass! Oh Kara, so deep in my little asshole it trem